Slow Burn Read Online Free PDF

it’s for Spencer, make it decaf. She certainly doesn’t need the caffeine!” David said.
    Spencer let that pass. When David sat down behind his desk again, he felt a wave of guilt and sorrow sweep over him. She was so pale, and so damned thin. All her life, she had dressed beautifully but simply, and that hadn’t changed. She was wearing a sleeveless dress that stopped just above the knee. But the cut was perfect, and David assumed it was some kind of designer original, although Spencer also made a point of buying things just because she liked them, not because there was a name attached to them. Spencer had never acted as if she came from money, but it was always there in the background, just the same. He had to admit, though, he wasn’t sure just who had buckled to the family pressure, him or her.
    Whatever, the dress, simple, perfect, looked wonderful on her. One minute she seemed like a tempest, and now she seemed all but ethereal. She needed more meat on her bones, more color in her face. Her eyes were haunted. Hell, his probably looked that way, too. It had been rough, learning to live with Danny gone.
    And hunting for his killer.
    â€œIt’s been a year, David,” she said almost tonelessly.
    â€œSpencer, have you been to the police—”
    â€œOf course. Lots of times. They’re always as nice as they can be—except, of course, when they start questioning me again.”
    â€œThey have to do that, Spencer.”
    â€œHow could I have killed him?” she asked bleakly.
    He hesitated. “The way they see it, anything is possible. You might have run out, shot him, run home, then waited for someone to come and give you the news.”
    â€œBut you know—”
    â€œI’m telling you what the D.A.’s office could come up with in terms of motive. You were his wife. You inherited a sizable fortune on his death.”
    â€œBut you found me—”
    â€œStark naked. What a great way to shed bloody clothing.”
    She was standing again, staring at him as if he were a cold-blooded killer. “You bastard! What about you? He died in your arms!”
    â€œSpencer, sit down, or I’ll make you sit down in about two seconds!”
    She didn’t sit. He swore, rising. She sat, teeth grating, staring at him. “Spencer, damn you, they questioned me, too, over and over. Guys I worked with for years. They had to explore all the possibilities.”
    Tears were hovering in her eyes. She was trying very hard not to shed them. “I loved Danny.”
    â€œI know that, Spencer.” He clenched his teeth, feeling as if he’d been punched in the heart. He’d loved Danny, too. Just about everyone who ever met Danny Huntington cared about him. Except, of course, the killer. Or killers?
    â€œSpencer, remember the case just a few years ago? Right on Bayshore Drive. Wife calls in, her husband’s been shot. Says some men broke in and killed him. Turned out she hired the men who shot them, let them in and out, waited long enough for them to disappear, then called emergency. Remember, Spencer?”
    â€œYes, I remember,” she said impatiently. “She was also much younger than he was and wanted his money. The two cases are nothing at all alike.”
    â€œSpencer, the police can’t help it. Most murders are committed by people close to the victims. Wives rank right on top.”
    â€œDamn you, David, I didn’t come here to listen to you explain why the cops questioned me. Danny has been dead for over a year. A cop, David, a cop murdered—and no suspect in sight! And you sit there justifying why they questioned me! I want to know what else they’ve got! And all anyone will ever tell me is that, oh, we’ve a few leads, we’re following this one or that one! They humor me. They pat me on the back, but nothing happens!”
    â€œSpencer, they’re trying. It takes time—”
    â€œI want to know